Friday, February 20, 2015

Yesterday my beloved spouse walked in the door and asked if I'd noticed that a white spray painted box now entirely enclosed our shrubbery in the easement on the edge of our property.

I made this face.

Those aforementioned shrubberies are the only thing that prevent people from cutting through our yard to go to the park thus creating a terrible mud pit. While I frantically called the electric company and left several incredibly calm and not at all panicky voicemails, my charming spouse apparently thought googling what terrible things can be put in your easement would be great. Subsequently he TOLD ME (which is a rank amateur move that I am sure he will not make 10 years from now). And I may have gotten moderately shouty.

I finally called Call Before You Dig (811) and they suggested I review tickets for my street and address at the NTMS using Detailed Search-- this is a thing that I did not know existed, but seems like you should know if you own a home. Now you know, you're welcome. There I discovered a ticket with a contractor's cell number on it. I waited until 8:02 this morning (I am the picture of restraint) and called and was not completely traumatized by the contractor.

And while I'm not excited to get some kind of anchor line thingy they're putting in, I am glad that the HUGE POLE WILL NOT FALL ON MY HOUSE AND MURDER US IN OUR SLEEP. Probably. (Note: new thing to be scared of.) And major upside, I significantly increased the number of times I have had legitimate reason to say the word shrubbery.

And in shrubbery related news, the shrubs will live on. And I will not be forced to say ni.